


clear blue waters

by aquamarine_nebula



Series: in the interim [2]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Amputee Eddie Kaspbrak, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Established Relationship, Fix-It, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Internalised Homophobia, M/M, Religious Imagery, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Rimming, i mean it's eddie so of course, or porn held together with emotional whiplash?, this is mostly emotional whiplash held together with porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:22:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29978004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquamarine_nebula/pseuds/aquamarine_nebula
Summary: Eddie learns a lot about himself with Richie.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: in the interim [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2204976
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30





	clear blue waters

**Author's Note:**

> warning: use of the f-slur near the end, though not maliciously
> 
> mix of movie and book canon (more book canon tbh)
> 
> title from taylor swift's 'this love' which is a damn good reddie song

In the  _ before _ , Eddie couldn't wait to be out of bed and out the door. That was, in the times he actually went to his bed rather than making up the spare room bed for the night and giving Myra some half-assed excuse about working late into the night and not wanting to wake her. She'd found it sweet, proof of his devotion to her comfort and happiness, when in general he was just terrified that she would try to instigate anything more than a kiss on his cheek.

Habits being what they were, and difficult to break, he still slid away from the heat furnace that was Richie quite early in the morning, careful not to wake him. Richie wasn't a late riser--had spent most of their childhood waking up a couple of hours before Eddie--but he did draw the line at getting up before 6am. On some days, Eddie would be too jittery to stay in bed, opting instead to run until he was sweating and panting for breath, the burn in his muscles a pleasant proof of just how strong he could be. Others he would push 9am or even 10am refusing to leave the refuge of Richie’s arms.

This was definitely one of these days. After slipping away to put a pot of coffee on the go--Richie loved waking to the smell of coffee even if he couldn't stand drinking the stuff--he’d reinstated himself against Richie’s back, pressing his face against his bare shoulder and splaying his hand over his chest.

Richie huffed a little in his sleep before stirring.

There was something poetic about Richie when he first awoke, when the quickness of his mind was softened, LA sun falling against his cheeks and lighting the freckles on his shoulders. He awoke by increments like a flower slowly unfurling its petals. Richie was always enchanting, his wit catching admiration wherever he went, but  _ this _ softness and warmth was something that Eddie guarded jealously.

He twisted his fingers through the spaces Eddie’s had left, rubbing a thumb absentmindedly over Eddie’s knuckles.

“Morning,” Eddie said.

Instead of answering, Richie pulled his hand up to bump his lips to his fingers in a lazy approximation of a kiss. Eddie responded with his own against the nape of his neck. Richie shivered when he lingered, letting his tongue touch the skin to taste the warmth. He'd already left a few bruises on Richie the night before, to Richie’s delight, and when he shifted to kiss one on his shoulder--just enough pressure that he'd feel the ache--Richie’s breath caught and he pressed his hips back against Eddie.

That was another thing. Indulging in anything sexual past the perfunctory had barely crossed his mind with Myra. Eddie couldn't even remember a time that it hadn't felt like nothing more than a chore to lay with her. And when it came to an end, he would push it to the back of his mind. Nothing like the way sex with Richie was always on his mind at some level. He couldn't count the times he'd been distracted watching the sure way Richie’s hand curved around a microphone, the strip of skin around the softness of his hips that was revealed when he stretched, how his mouth would go dry every time Richie distractedly pressed at a hickey Eddie had left with a secretive smile.

He rocked against the small of Richie’s back, letting him feel his cock slowly hardening, and Richie let out a quick breath.

“Why did we bother putting clothes on last night?” Richie asked wryly, his voice cracking from sleep.

‘Clothes' was maybe a bit over exaggerated as a term, seeing as all Richie had on was a pair of briefs, and Eddie had only bothered with an old t-shirt of Richie’s. Still, he happily played along. “I don't know why we should bother putting clothes on at all,” he said against Richie’s ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and sucking gently.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Richie groaned, quickly complying when Eddie tugged at the waistband of his briefs, kicking them somewhere into the depths of the bed.

“How do you want me?” Eddie asked, cupping Richie’s erection and keeping his hand there without moving, a promise and supplication at once.

Even now, with years of loving each other under their belts, Richie still had trouble asking Eddie for what he wanted, buried true desires under miles of bravado and teasing. Eddie could see him biting his tongue, trapping words behind his teeth. He let go of Richie’s cock, bringing his hand instead to his mouth. Richie let him press his index and middle finger past his lips, letting out a small, desperate sound from his throat as Eddie started fucking his fingers into his mouth, revelling in the way Richie tightened his lips around them, licking as if it were Eddie’s cock in his mouth. “There?” he asked in a low voice, before pulling his fingers out.

“ _ Eddie _ ,” Richie pleaded, before going ramrod straight and utterly still as Eddie reached between them to rub a finger gently against his rim.

“There?” he asked.

“Not today. Still a bit sore,” Richie said, huffing a laugh. He relaxed again as Eddie pulled his hand away to wrap around him again, instead fondling his balls.

“How do you want me, love?” he asked again, and Richie jolted at the pet name.

“Fuck my thighs?” he asked. Eddie blinked, then furrowed his brow.

“Really?” he asked. “What does that do for you?” 

Richie being generous to a fault was something he was used to, easily forgoing his own pleasure for Eddie’s even now. But the blush that was colouring his cheeks made Eddie think that it was something he'd thought of for a while.

“Plenty, if you aim well and jerk me off at the same time,” he said, a teasing lilt to his tone.

Eddie reached over Richie to rifle through his drawer and find the lube where they'd haphazardly tossed it the night before. “This is unfair. You  _ know _ how fixated I get on your thighs even in polite company. You're going to ruin my reputation, Richie.” He let out a victorious exclamation when he finally located the bottle, fumbling with it to squeeze a few cold drops onto his cock. It had taken a lot of practice to get the logistics down with only one arm, and though the cold gel being put directly on his dick wasn't his  _ favourite _ sensation by a mile and a half, it beat accidentally dropping half of it on the bed sheets.

Richie watched him fondly over his shoulder. “I'll make sure to ruin it thoroughly, then, Eds,” he said, before sighing as Eddie guided his cock between Richie’s thighs, rocking against him slowly, his breath coming quicker when Richie tensed his muscles. It didn't completely do away with the softness of his thighs, which was mirrored by the same softness in the dip of his waist that Eddie often wanted to bury himself in. Eddie gripped it, pulling Richie closer.

“You know,” he said, almost conversationally were it not for the betraying hitch in his breath, “I always loved it when you called me Eds.” He whispered the admission like a schoolyard secret just for them.

Richie tipped his head back with a plaintive sound, his curls falling into Eddie’s eyes. “I  _ knew _ it,” he joked, cutting off in a low groan when a thrust brought the head of Eddie’s cock to brush against his perineum and press behind his balls. “That's it, love,” Richie choked out when Eddie’s hand wrapped around his cock, squeezing a couple of times before hunting for the once-again discarded bottle of lube. 

“Help me?” he asked, holding it out to Richie so he could squeeze a dollop onto Eddie’s hand. Instead, Richie poured it onto his own hand and gripped his cock, pausing at Eddie’s annoyed huff. “Let  _ me _ , Rich,” he insisted, pushing Richie’s hand away and taking him in his own. “I've got you. Just relax.”

He didn't quite do as Eddie asked, his back arched and tight as a bow string, the tendons in his neck standing out in a way that begged for them to be licked and sucked, but he didn't try to touch himself again, instead reaching one hand back to bury his fingers in Eddie’s hair, the other twisting in the bed sheets. His breaths were coming out in little gasps as Eddie did everything he could to make him fall apart, twisting his wrist at the head to wring out more punched-out whines, rubbing little circles incessantly at the frenulum and at his slit until he was saying Eddie’s name like a prayer.

Richie torn open and honest was almost enough to tip Eddie over the edge himself, and paired with the way Richie’s thighs were trembling around him, he had to slow down his thrusts, instead pressing deep and catching his breath. It was only then that he heard Richie muttering a string of numbers under his breath as he squeezed his thighs tighter and pushed back against Eddie. “What are those numbers?” he asked curiously. Not that Richie did much in the way of dirty talking when he was being serious; he left that for joking moods when he wanted to rile Eddie up and try to make him shriek with laughter despite his better judgment. But this seemed strange even for those moods, which he quite obviously wasn't in currently.

“Counting backwards from one thousand by prime numbers,” he grunted in response. “Want you to come first.”

Eddie had always been...decent at school. Enough to pass comfortably, and though maths had never been his strength he'd never felt like a dunce in those classes. But it was nothing compared to the easy mastery Richie’d had throughout school at everything he'd tried his hand at. Eddie was sure he'd  _ never _ been quick enough to be able to do anything like  _ that _ . And anyone else would have held their intelligence over other peoples’ heads. Richie had never hidden it, never dumbed himself down for anyone, but never flaunted it.

“ _ God _ ,” Eddie whined against Richie’s neck, his hips moving again almost without his permission. “Rich, what's twenty-three times seventeen?” 

In all fairness, it took a few seconds of Richie parsing it through in his head before he confidently answered “Three-hundred and ninety-one,” and Eddie shuddered through his orgasm, his toes curling and nails digging into Richie’s stomach. Richie hummed questioningly, still squeezing his thighs together to eek out the vestiges of Eddie’s pleasure, before Eddie pulled away as over-sensitivity bled into almost-pain.

Richie turned over, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Maths? Really?”

Eddie shook his head, pushing him onto his back so he could swing a leg over his waist and sit back against Richie’s still hard cock. “You. Just you.”

The corners of his lips twitched into a smile, the kind of smile he'd only ever reserved for Eddie. No smirking, no suave persona, no hiding his emotions behind quickly grasped jokes. Eddie pressed the tips of his fingers reverently against the smile, tracing his Cupid’s bow and curve of his bottom lip. The smile faded, his bright eyes growing wary and fearful for a second before he swept it away. “You're kind of giving me blue balls here, Eds,” he said lightly. “If you're not up to it I guess I could go get--” Eddie cut him off by kissing him, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth and revelling in Richie’s groan and the way his hips bucked up to search for friction. He pulled away to stare again, the impossible blue of his eyes that Eddie was sure he'd dreamt of nightly in the decades they were apart, the strong jawline, the worried furrow between his brow.

Before he'd truly understood why Richie pulled out the more inappropriate jokes and Voices in more intimate moments between them, he'd just rolled his eyes and gone with it, reacting to the joke rather than the feelings underneath, but it hadn't taken long before he'd noticed how Richie always tried to close himself off rather than let himself be vulnerable, and the fear when he did. Eddie had seen enough fear in Richie’s eyes to last him a lifetime. “Memorising you,” he said, resuming tracing Richie’s face with his fingers. “Don't want to forget how you look right now.” He grinded against Richie's cock and watched as his lips parted and his back arched off the mattress for a second. “How you feel.” 

Richie shut his eyes tight, and said nothing when a couple of tears traced along his face and dropped onto the pillow. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, breath stuttering as Eddie cupped his cheek.

Voice rough, he finally pulled at the hem of the t-shirt Eddie was wearing. “Take this off,” he said, and he helped Eddie in divesting him of it, throwing it into a corner of their bedroom. 

The way Richie looked at him hadn't changed a great deal from when they were children, the same love and adoration, the same pride when Eddie managed to chain the demons in his mind long enough to do something reckless or brave, and the way  _ Eddie _ felt likewise hadn't really changed. Namely, that when Richie’s eyes were on him the thrill made him wonder what he  _ wouldn't _ do to keep his attention at all costs.

And right now Richie wasn't looking away from him as he brought his hands slowly from Eddie’s thighs, up his torso to his neck, and it was almost unbearably intoxicating.

He met Richie in a kiss that tore his breath from his chest, pressing against him as if he could crawl into his skin, sucking on Richie’s tongue when he licked into his mouth. “I love you,” he said when they broke apart to pant into the almost non-existent space between them. “If I had to do it all again to be here, now, I would, no hesitation.”

Richie’s cock twitched under him, and Eddie grinded against it again, long and slow until Richie had ducked his head against Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie almost flinched away, even now there was a spark of discomfort at Richie seeing the scar up close, even if the surgeons had done a frankly remarkable job at neatening up the ragged stump Pennywise had left him with. He let himself take a deep, calming breath as Richie breathed his name against his skin.

“Lie back, Richie,” he ordered softly, and he followed when Richie obeyed, pressing chaste kisses against his mouth before tracing down his neck, following a well-loved line to his nipple. Richie took in staccato breaths as Eddie sucked and licked, his hand trailing over the soft swell of his stomach to palm his cock. He repeated the same track with his mouth, meeting Richie’s eyes in askance as he reached his destination. Richie bit his lip hard, eyes wide, before spreading his thighs and letting Eddie settle between them. 

“Only if you want to,” he asked, and in response Eddie grinned, probably a little wolfishly. He almost could have purred at the way Richie’s eyes darkened.

The insides of his thighs and behind his balls had been covered in come when Eddie had orgasmed, and he started by licking it away, listening to the way Richie choked out his name with more than a little satisfaction. The taste wasn't  _ pleasant _ , it never was, but he could easily ignore that in lieu of watching the way Richie’s shoulders tensed as he gripped the bedsheets, the way he pushed his hips up to press closer to Eddie, the litany of moans that fell from his mouth. His hands flew to brace against the headboard when Eddie sucked sloppy kisses on his balls, and licked behind them experimentally, pushing one of Richie’s legs up until his hips were canted up.

See, Eddie had always, by nature, been an explorer. He had the vaguest of memories of life when his father was still alive, sat on his shoulders as they explored the wilderness around their small country home before Derry. Although he doubted Frank took him far, to a four year old it was like he was being shown the world. Even when Sonia was at her most protective, he felt most alive when he was somewhere new, almost at risk of being lost but trusting in his unwavering sense of direction. In all honesty, he would do anything to satisfy that curiosity that came from being a true adventurer. And that proved the same in his relationship with Richie, who had always had more faith in Eddie than he did himself, who for better or worse, encouraged him to push through his boundaries without going too far. He'd always had a sense of how far Eddie could go before he was truly in danger.

With the same curiosity that had many times encouraged him to explore the forests around Derry, the train tracks which promised so much freedom, the same curiosity he'd lost when the losers had separated, he pressed the tip of his tongue against Richie’s rim, almost laughing when Richie yelped loudly and jolted hard enough to hit his head on the headboard.

“What are you playing at?” he asked, letting himself laugh when Richie stared at him with wide eyes, his mouth open like a gaping fish. “You look ridiculous,” he continued fondly, reaching across to chuck him under his chin. “You're going to catch flies, Richie.”

“Did you mean to do that?” 

It was a fair question. It had taken weeks before he could bring himself to take Richie in his mouth, months more before he could finger him, his mother’s words echoing in his head, shaming him for enjoying this, for  _ wanting _ this. Everytime hearing her admonish him for being so  _ dirty _ , so  _ rotten _ , he was going to end up like those  _ queers _ dying from their filthy ways, and that was no way of life for Sonia Kaspbrak’s son.

He swallowed, and felt that with Richie staring at him with that bewildered, wondering expression, Sonia’s voice seemed very far away. He grinned again, before leaning in to kiss him, deep and filthy as he could muster. “I did. Was it okay?”

“Holy shit. Yes.”

Richie was smiling against his mouth, jubilant and utterly radiant. “On your hands and knees, then. Otherwise my neck will be killing me.”

A deep blush spread over Richie’s cheeks, and he scrambled to obey, almost kicking Eddie in the chest in his haste. “Yes, sir!” he chirped, and Eddie took a moment to laugh at him.

“You're ridiculous,” he said, as fondly as he could, before leaning in, watching the way his legs shook as Eddie breathed against his skin before pressing the flat of his tongue against his hole.

Richie’s reaction was almost as strong, jolting away from Eddie’s tongue and bashing the top of his head against the headboard again. “ _ Richie _ !” Eddie admonished, swiping at his hip. “Just  _ hold still _ , godammit.”

Richie didn't do more than make a vaguely strangled sound which Eddie took to be assent, and this time he pressed his tongue into the ring of muscle. He didn't jolt away that time, though Eddie suspected it was because he was bracing his head against the headboard. 

He hadn't exactly planned on doing this, well...ever, so no research had gone into it, but he decided to just pretend he was kissing Richie’s mouth, moving his lips and tongue the same way he would for a particularly deep kiss, although Richie had to muffle a yell into Eddie’s pillow when Eddie let his teeth graze against his rim.

He paused, pulling away to catch his breath and rub his jaw, and Richie’s hips sunk bonelessly flush against the bed. “Do you think you could come just from that?”

Richie snorted. “No, Eds. It's amazing but I'm forty-one, in case you forgot.”

Eddie hummed. “Well, touch yourself, then. I want you to come on my tongue,” he said, and Richie choked before shifting to take himself in hand.

Eddie pressed in again, and it took only a few seconds before Richie was clenching around his tongue, groaning Eddie’s name. Eddie grinned against Richie’s rim at the wave of elation that passed through him. He was really  _ doing _ this, and loving every moment, every twitch and moan from Richie. He felt like brandishing it in the face of everyone who’d tried to tell him that what he felt was wrong.  _ You see your precious little Eddie-bear now, mom? _ he thought, the words screaming through his mind almost hysterically.  _ See him with his tongue in another man’s ass and never wanting to come up for air? You see this, Bowers? The kid you called a fag all through middle school who wants nothing more than to choke on his boyfriend’s dick so deep he can feel him in his lungs? _

He pulled away again, barely noticing the tears on his cheeks before Richie had turned back to him, indolent and slow with post-orgasmic haze, and brushed them away, pulling Eddie into his arms.

The guilt and shame always came and went in waves. When he'd been lying in the sewer, Richie’s eyes the only thing he could see clearly, his life flowing out of him, he'd felt like with the blood all the impurity and shame had been washed away too, a baptism to show him that the love he felt for Richie was  _ good _ , that loving another human being so absolutely was akin to seeing the face of God. In that moment, he'd felt so utterly accepted, so utterly  _ fearless _ . It hadn't lasted. Myra crying about how he could change his ways if he just tried, the comments Richie sometimes received after he came out publicly, even the off-hand comments made by his co-workers or acquaintances had brought a lot of it back. He could remember feeling so infinite as he had in the sewer, could call up on it for courage, and yet.

He buried his face in Richie’s shoulder, breathing him in, feeling the sweat on his skin and the light tremors of his muscles. He fell back against the pillows, pulling Eddie with him and burying a hand in his hair. “Eds?” he asked softly.

“I'm fine,” he said, his voice muffled from where it was currently squashed against Richie’s chest. “Working through some shit.”

“I could help,” he continued, scratching his scalp.

“Do you...do you ever feel guilty for loving me?” he lifted himself on his elbow, looking at Richie’s face.

Richie looked away, the corners of his lips tightening. “Sometimes,” he said.

“How do you get past it?”

“Therapy,” he quipped, with a careful half smile.

“Does it ever hit you when we’re having sex?”

Richie paused, then shook his head. “It hits me when we’re out together. If we’re...I don't know, holding hands or something, and I see someone looking at us. And then I just get really fucking scared for us.” He smiled humourlessly. “LA isn't as accepting or liberal as it markets itself to be.” He didn't continue, eyes distant and looking above Eddie’s shoulder to the ceiling. He came back to himself when Eddie touched his cheek. “But I've already wasted forty years of my life being scared.”

Eddie nodded.

“I did mean that thing about therapy, though. I know you're reluctant.”

“The only type of doctor my mother would never have willingly taken me to,” Eddie said dryly.

“Fuck her, though. Right?”

Eddie sighed, settling next to Richie in the space between his body and his arm, tracing a winding pattern over his chest. “Yeah. Fuck her. Fuck Bowers. Fuck that fucking clown.”

“Fuck that fucking clown,” Richie agreed, pressing a kiss to his hairline.


End file.
